She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. ” “I realize I can’t see my mom or brother again. ” Michelle looked away. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot.
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